


It's My Life(A Superwholock Fanfiction)

by Dopple_Girl



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:16:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dopple_Girl/pseuds/Dopple_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Reyna wanted was to be normal. But she knew she could never have that. All she had to worry about was keeping her lives separated. But when her worlds collide, she has to decide which life she wants to keep. Because this is going to be one birthday she knows she'll never forget.</p>
<p>(Warning: This story may contain strong language, as it includes the character of Dean Winchester. I'll try to avoid it as much as I can. However, I make no promises.)</p>
<p>Timelines<br/>Doctor Who: After Season 8<br/>Sherlock: After Season 3<br/>Supernatural: After The Executioner's Song but before Inside Man(not sure specifically when)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking Back

If you heard I was a 15 year old girl with a birthday in two months, you'd think all that was on my mind was planning a Sweet 16 that was movie perfect. But frankly that was the farthest thing on my mind right now. All I wanted to do was to balance my lives. One is my normal one, the one which I think about learning how to drive or about college or starting junior year in high school. The one that gets good grades and wants to enjoy summer with her friends. But I can never have that life. Where some people fantasize about true love or being a superhero or ruling the fashion scene, I dream out a normal life. But that is the thing abou fantasies. You know they can never be real. 

The most normal thing about my life is that my parents are divorced with dual custody. Of their only child. My mom needed space, and that's fine. But I don't think you need an entire ocean for space if a child is involved. But it's her decision. So, every three months I fly to London to my mom's place, and in three months I fly back to the U.S. to be with my dad.

I'm laying down in one of my beds, looking up at the ceiling. I just having one of my moments, one where I look back at my different worlds which I need to keep separate. First is one month ago me. I still have the scratch marks on me from when she was on top of me. 

"Just shoot it already!" I yelled as I tried to keep it from killing me. It's fangs were barred, trying to either kill me or bite me. I could never tell the difference. My knife was too far out of reach, and I was using all of my strength to keep myself from dying. 

"I'm trying!" Dean shouted back. "I don't want to miss when I fire. Only got one shot."

"Well, you better do it soon!" I kicked it in the chest, where my knife had made contact when she tried to dodge it. She screamed in pain and loosened her grip, enough for me to hit her hard and get her off of me. I hurried out of the way as Dean pulled the trigger. It hit her right in the heart, killing her instantly. 

"Nice shot."

"Only had one left. Had to count otherwise you'd be food."

"Well, you should have brought more bullets next time. You'd seen the corpse. No heart equals werewolf." I said as I picked up my silver knife from the floor. 

"Just your typical Tuesday." 

"And it's only Monday."

I heard the laughing of us in the back of my head, crystal clear like it was only yesterday. But that was my life in America. Hunting demons, ghosts and monsters you'd only seen in your nightmares. But then there was one week ago me. Looking down at the London street 802 feet below me. 

My knee made contact with his stomach as he tried to push me off the hole in the railing of the observatory deck. He backed away, and I moved closer to try and take him down. 

"Your good for someone who has never taken a fighting class in her life."

"Sherlock, when you watch enough action movies like I do," I said to him as I ducked a punch. "you tend to learn a few things." I swept my feet at his, knocking him to the ground. 

"So, you're a visual learner?"

I sighed as I hit my opponent square in the jaw with an uppercut. "There is just no use in arguing with a sociopath, is there?"

"I'm not a sociopath." He said as we stood back to back. "I'm a highly-functioning sociopath."

My smile was as wide as it was in the moment. Solving mysteries in London was another whole live. My life with my mom, that I go to every three months. But I was in my third life, my five minutes ago life. Beads of sweat still trickled down my forehead from the running. 

"Why are they shooting at us?!?" I said as I dodged lasers and ran as hard as I could. 

"I don't know. Just keep running! We need to get back to the Tardis."

"What about Clara?" 

"Sorry, I meant we need to get you back to the Tardis." He said as the big blue box came into view

"Well, I'm not going back. I'm coming with you." I didn't care about the lasers at the moment as I stood my ground in front of the blue box. 

"Do as you are told."

"No."

"Do as you are told."

"I'm com..."

"Do as you are told!"

I stood there shocked as he'd never spoke to me in that tone. And I didn't want to deal with him. I walked over to the door and walked inside partway. 

"You're an idiot." I said and slammed the door closed. I ran to my room and closed the door. Hopping in the position I'm in now. Fighting aliens and saving worlds. Life #3. And I sometimes wondered how I got sucked into all this. These are my lives. Hunting the supernatural, then solving mysteries, all while finding time to fight aliens. My name is Reyna, and one day I want to be normal.


	2. Believing in the Supernatural

It always is confusing, how I got stuck with all these lives. I still can't fully grasp how I got into this mess in the first place. But if you want to understand it all, I might want to start from the beginning.

It was 4 1/2 years since the divorce. I was in America, driving in the RV with my dad at the wheel. We were traveling to who knows where, as my dad liked to travel to places of unexplained murders and killings. 

"Dad, why are we going this time?" I asked. I wanted to know, but I really didn't care. 

"Minnesota. Small town, 29 year old with a promising future commits suicide according to the police. No history of depression and was going to get married in 7 weeks."

"If it was a suicide, then why are we going to investigate it?"

"Because police always claim things they cannot explain as suicides. I heard about a case in London where the police thought it was suicide. Detective comes in and find out it was a murder because the bullet wound was on the right side on the head and the man was left handed."

"How did he know he was left handed?"

"I didn't read too much into it. It was on some blog I found while surfing the web."

"Don't trust every blog you read online." I said, but I doubt he was listening. He never truly did. But I was only here for two more months. Then I would fly back to my mum's back in London. I've always liked it better over there. Life was so much calmer. 

When we got there, police were already swarming the scene. The body lay where I originally saw it in the photos. But as I looked out the window, all I noticed was the car. A black 1967 Chevy Impala. I've seen it so many times I had to look it up. Only with my dad, only when we go for some strange occurs. It just seemed so...coincidental. I took a picture and compared it to the others. Yep, the same license plate as the others. CNK 80Q3. It was definitely the same car. 

"Honey!" My dad called from the yellow tape. "Can you go to the laundromat? The clothes need to be washed."

"Sure. I need pants." I yelled back. Then under my breath. "I'll do anything to get away from here." I unlocked the truck, pulling out all the clothes that accumulated over the past few weeks. I only had to take a whiff of it to know that it needed to be washed. I grabbed the basket, and walked over to the laundromat a few blocks away. I saw it when we drove in. When I walked in, there was nobody in there. Just a young man in his 30's and an elderly woman. They were talking about the murder. Must be a small town.

"It was so heartbreaking you know." The woman said. "And I was about to have a granddaughter-in-law."

"I know it's hard, Hazel. I don't know why he would do something like this. I've know Reese all my life. He would never do anything like is. He always hated suicide."

"I know, I know. My family was always very religious. They...felt it was wrong to end one's life before it was time. It just so hard...so hard." Hazel then started to cry, leaning on the man's shoulder. That's when another man entered, a young man in his late 20's. He looked normal, only with a devilish grin on his face. He was tall, with brown spiky hair and bloodshot eyes. He wore clothes stained with oil and, for some weird reason, had no shoes on. I paid no attention to him at first, thinking he was another person using the machines. But he had no clothes other than the ones on his body. 

"Jacob, did you hear about Reese? It so sad that had to happened." The man said. 

"I know." Jacob responded. "Such a tragedy." But something was wrong. He had no sympathy in his voice, only a devilish tone. I took out my phone and started to record. Dad had always said to record thinks that were strange. And this was definitely strange, for the most part. 

"C'mon, Jacob. Please tell us. Dave said he was alone, but I don't believe a word of what he says. Do you know what happened last night."

"To be honest, I have no idea." Jacob said, reaching into his back pocket for something. I couldn't see it based on my angle. "But I think you are about to join him."

"Join him? Jacob, you're not making sense. Join him where?"

"In hell." He said, before his eyes turned as black as the night. He pulled the knife that was behind in plain view. The man let go of Hazel and backed away, the fear on his face as clear as daylight. 

"C'mon Jacob. I've known you since you were born. This isn't you." Hazel pleaded. "Put the knife down and leave Isaac alone."

"I don't take orders from You!" He shouted at her. He put his hand out, and sent her flying backward. She slammed against the wall on the side, slumping down, hopefully unconscious. I turned back the camera back to Jacob, who has started to advance on Isaac again. 

"Buddy, please. Don't kill me. I don't want to die. Don't do this, Jacob." He pleaded. 

"I'm not Jacob. And I will do as I please." He said and drove the knife into Isaac's heart. His eyes almost bulged out of his head, before they closed. Jacob withdrew the knife, and he dropped to the ground dead. I watched as Jacob stood back, almost pleased that he just killed a man. He then turned around and spotted me. With the camera that had just recorded the whole thing. 

I stopped recording and started to back away. He just looked at me with those big black eyes as he advanced. I had a feeling I was going to die. I just knew it. When I reached the corner, I closed my eyes knowing that any breath could be my last. Then I heard gun shots. I opened my eyes and saw that another man had entered the laundromat. He hair was spiky like Jacob's, but his what a light brown compared to a dark black. He had a stubble beard, and his green eyes were fixed at Jacob.

"Leave. Now." He demanded. 

"Never." Jacob said, almost in a hiss. As they talked, I slowly inched closer and closer to the door. "I will not leave until I find the angel among the living."

"Well, tough. Your gonna have to go through me first."

"You're gonna have to find me first." He said, and a black smoke exited his mouth. The smoke headed through the crack in the door and fled. The man who had come in with the gun ran to follow it; I rushed to Jacob and Hazel to see if they were ok. Hazel was fine, with not physical damage. Jacob, however, had no pulse when I checked. 

"You okay?" He said, and I looked up to see the man who came in later. He had a hand extended in my direction, offering to help me up. 

"I'm fine." I said, getting up on my own. His hand slipped back into his pockets. "Who are you, again?"

"I'm Detective Nimoy. And outside is Detective Shatner. You're going have to answer some questions about what you saw." I looked outside to see what Shatner looked liked. He had long hair for a guy, but it was a darker shade of brown then Nimoy. He also had a stubble beard, but it was less noticeable than his friend. Compared to him, he looked less serious. But what shocked me was behind me. He was leaning against a car. To be more specific, a 1967 Chevy Impala.


	3. Up Close and Personal

I don't trust them. First, it was them that owned the impala. They had been so many places I been before, but I had never seen them. Or, if I did, I just dismissed them as locals. Plus there names were fake. They are calling themselves William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy, the original actors of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. They were lying. 

But I did explain what happened. I had to because I didn't know if they were real cops or not. But I never told him about the video. I wasn't going to tell anyone about the video. Because that thing was still on the loose, and I wasn't going to blab it to the world and end up being the next victim. 

"Thank you." Said Nimoy. Ok, I know that's not his real name, but I have nothing else to call him. "I think that is all that we need."

"Yeah." Shatner said hesitantly. "We'll call you if we have any more questions."

"No problem." I said, as I started to leave. I wasn't someone who wanted to be noticed. All I wanted to be some person who fades away in the background, not to be remembered for anything. When I rounded the corner, I took of in full-on sprint. I didn't care about the laundry, or the fact I had no idea where he was. I just knew I had to leave. 

The RV was still where it was, so I decided as my dad looked for the unexplained, I would relax. But he was there when I got back. 

"Hey, honey. Where's the laundry?" He said, seeing my empty hands. 

"I left it at the apartment." I lied, seeing if he would believe it. I wasn't sure if he was himself. That thing might have gotten hold of him, like the other boy. "I'll go and get it back. The Wilsons probably have it."

"Ok. Oh, and make sure you're home for dinner. Mom's making her famous casserole tonight." 

"Can't wait." I put on my best fake smile on as I left. Closing the door, I leaned against it because I needed to take in the truth. That...thing, whatever it was, was now taken over my dad. My dad had never really studied up on the paranormal. He just travelled around to see if, one day, he could be lucky, and see something that was only speculation. But now one was inside him.

I walked away, trying to persuade myself that this was all a dream. That it wasn't real. Monsters aren't real. Dad is fine. This is just a nightmare. I kept saying in my head. But even as I lied to myself, I just knew that I was going have to find a way to get that thing out of him. Without killing him. I just couldn't do that. I sat on a nearby bench, laying out possible plans of actions, when I heard them talking. 

"But, do you know what he meant? The angel among the living."

"Do you think he meant Cas?"

"No, he still trying to work things out with Claire. But do you think there's a angel here too?" 

"Maybe. Explains why he killed those boys. Must be one of the boys that night the other boy was killed."

"Possibly. But we still have talk to all three boys families. See if we can find anything about from them." I looked down at my phone, which I didn't realize I took out, and just stared at it as the detectives passed. I looked up and saw them head to the east side of town. I just watched them as they walked away. I didn't even see the man who sat next to me until he spoke. 

"Excuse me. Can you help me?" He said, with pleading brown eyes. He looked like the others men who had died. He was in his late 20's, with a military style haircut that ran his blonde hair down his neck. 

"I don't think I'll be able to help much." I admitted, looking back down. "I don't even live here." I kicked a rock at my feet, a little in frustration. "Haven't been much help today anyway."

"But I know you can help. I know you've seen him. Twice. Once at the laundromat, and another time in your father." I looked back at him, slightly surprised. 

"How do you..." I started, but then realized. "You're the Angel the he spoke of. The one among the living."

"Exactly. 'He' is a demon. And I want to stop him before someone else gets killed." He says. "And I think you can be my...temporary host in order to stop him. But I need your permission."

"Why temporary? And why can't you use the host your in now?"

"The demon would recognize me in this form. He knew I was there when he made his first kill, so he will have a good idea what I might look like. It's too dangerous. Besides, I haven't found a permanent host yet. Still looking for the right person. But, will you give me permission to use you?"

"I don't know. I don't what will happen to me, or my dad, after all this is over. I know what you mean though. It's just hard, you know?" I said, hesitantly. I didn't know what the risks were. But I wanted to help dad at any costs. I just couldn't commit right away. 

"I can understand. But I think you know the circumstances. I hope," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "that you make the right choice." He let go of my shoulder and started to walk away. I looked back before he shouted something back at me. "The name's Misha. And if you decide, then I'll find you. Trust me." I didn't know how to react. He had just placed a huge responsibility on me, one that I wasn't really sure I wanted to take. I looked back to where Misha was, but the Angel was gone. All I did was breath, and start to find where dad went. I had no idea where or what the demon was going to do next, but I wasn't going to find out the hard way. That's when I heard the gun shots.

I ran to where I heard them. Even though there only a few, it was easy to find out where they were. All I had to do was run in the direction people ran the opposite of. When I got to the store, I saw my dad like he never had been before. He held a gun in his right hand, holding another man in his left hand. The man's eyes were fully of fear; Dad's black as darkness. The detectives were against the wall, both pointing their guns at dad. Nimoy held a knife in his other hand. The blade was silver and was sharp to the tip. The boys weren't making any moves appearing to be at a stalemate. I took a step closer, and his head jerked toward me. 

"Dad, please don't do this." I pleaded. "Please, whatever you are, why are doing this?"

"That thing in your dad is a demon!" Nimoy shouted. "There is no arguing with it!"

"This doesn't involve you!" I shouted. "This is between me and my father. Or whatever little bit of him is left." I turned back to the demon. "Please listen to me. It's Reyna. I know there is some bit of him left in there. Just fight him please."

As if he heard me, the eyes started to change from the black to normal human pupils. "Reyna." He said and came in to embrace me in a hug. He slipped the gun in his pocket as I came forward. Tears came down my checks as I embrace the man who I could confidently call my father. I closed my eyes, so I couldn't see what the detectives faces looked like as he pulled out a pocket knife and drove into my stomach. I gasped, hands clutching my stomach, as I backed away to see his eyes had turned dark again. 

"Sorry to your hopes up, but your dad is long gone." He maniacally said, throwing on one of those grins that makes anyone feel like the bad guy. The kind of smile that says I'm guilty and I know it. I regret nothing. I let go of my stomach and saw the blood staining my hands. I backed against the wall, trying to steady myself as the world started to become dizzy. I saw Shatner trying to help, but he was thrown back against the wall like Hazel. 

"And a little word of advice." Dad said, as I continued to lose blood. "Never trust a man possessed by a demon."  
I slid down on the wall as the world blinked in and out. But I didn't care about dying. All I cared about was my dad. 

"Make sure my dad gets out of this alive. Promise me that. With that promise, I give you my consent."


	4. Remember What You Forgot

What happened next was a blur to me. I thought he was going to abandon me, that my promise was too much. But then time seemed to be a blur and slow down, as a golden mist started to surround me. I felt my wound start to heal but parts of me started to change as I felt Misha enter my body. My blood felt purer for some reason, but I felt like I was losing a battle that I wasn't even fighting. But I knew that now my body was under his control. I spoke to my dad, but I didn't say the words. I fought with the demon in my dad, but I didn't move an inch. It was Misha doing everything; I just sat back and watched. But even though I saw everything that happened, I only remember what was explained to me later. 

When I woke up, I was still in the store but it was emptier than before. My dad was passed out against the wall. Misha had kept his promise, but I didn't doubt him. I stood up & my legs felt weak from a bruise on my left knee. I slowly turned around, and saw the man Misha had occupied earlier. He smiled, acknowledging that he was back inside. 

"Thank you." I said, and I think he knew what I meant. 

"It was no problem. I didn't want anyone else to die."

We sat in silence for a while, labored breathing the only thing that reached our ears. 

"What happened?" I asked, curious about had happened. "While you were in me? I don't remember anything."

"That's common in possession. But I think it's better that you don't know. Some things are better as secrets."

"I understand. Good luck then, finding a new body." He started to walk away, but turned back to face me. 

"Go find them. Those boys with the impala. I think you would go together nicely. You're strong and determined. I could see it when I was inside you. They will need you in the future. Because something big is coming, and they need someone to support them."

"I will." Was all I said, before he left. I hoped I'd see him again, but I doubt it. He was an angel, looking for his one true host. I was a teenager, traveling the country and leaving every three months. But I took his advice and tried to find the detectives. They still had answers that I wanted to know. I finally started walking out of the store, police already starting to arrive. I just kept walking, avoid questions, as my  
destination was in my sights.

"Those were some impressive moves back there." Shatner said as I approached the two men. "Do you..."

"I don't." I said, interrupting him. "And I don't think I ever will. But I don't want to. I think it's for the best. But what I do want to know, is who are you?" 

"We told you." Nimoy responded. "Detectives Nimoy and Shatner."

"Right, yeah. Maybe I'll call myself Nichelle Nichols. Then we can all hop on the enterprise and set a course to Alpha V at warp speed 6." I said sarcastically. "Now tell me who you are."

They stood in silence, and I knew I wasn't going to get any answers out of them. I turned around and my hand lingered on my phone a little longer than it should have. I pulled it out, and made a quick decision. One, for some reason, I thought I was going to regret.

"Before I go," I said, tossing them my phone. Nimoy caught it, and just stared at it in disbelief. "I want you to have this. There are...quite a few things you want to delete on there. I'm in the RV by the scene of the first killing. Return it when your done please." 

Now, I walked back. I didn't look back at the men as I took my time getting my laundry from the laundromat and returning to the RV. When I got there, I just laid on the couch staring at the ceiling. I just stayed there, unmoving as I tried to conjure any memories of what had happened. My mind came up empty, and although I had been told by Misha to forget it, I still wanted to know. And I may never stop trying. 

"Do you know what happened?" 

I sat up to see my dad, hovering above be. I think he meant the events of his possession. But I knew I couldn't tell him. This had to be a secret. 

"No, why? What happened? You were gone longer that usual." I said, hoping it was a good excuse. I'm not exactly the best liar. 

"I...I don't know what happened. All I know was that I woke up in a store, passed out. And there was this on the steps for you." He held out a newspaper, wrapped quickly around a small device. "Any idea what it might be?" He asked

"Yeah. I left my phone at the laundromat. Whoever found it must have read the contact info inside the case." I said, but I knew exactly what this meant. The photos and vid of the demon had been deleted. I unwrapped it as my dad made a beeline for the bathroom. The phone looked intact, but the photos were still there, and my contacts had been opened. I looked at it, and the look on my face must have been priceless. 

Two contacts had been added. Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester. The photo of Sam had Shatner, smiling in a big goofy grin. Dean's photo was more serious, with a smirk on his face that said I think I'm adorable. I laughed, and I felt the phone vibrate in my hands. I saw that Sam had just texted me. 

Look outside 

I looked, seeing the boys standing a few feet away. Dean pulled out his phone & quickly texted something. I waved, just as his text came in. 

Welcome to the team, kid.


	5. Believing in Deduction

I sitting down, looking at that very text. I look back at it, and remember so many fond memories. Wendigos, vampires, leviathans, the whole nine yards. But, that isn't my only life. It was only the beginning of it. I laid down, looking up to the ceiling. Nothing extraordinary. Just a smiley face I painted with yellow spray paint a little while ago. And as I stared, my mind drifted to a few weeks earlier. To my first taste of my new London life. 

It all started with me being whisked away in a police car. My mom was crying next to me, but we weren't being arrested. My future step-father, Richard, had just killed himself. Note: Future step-dad. He was about to move out his apartment, when the landlord found him dead. We wanted to see him, so me, mom, and both of his sons were crammed into the back of the car. For the first time, I couldn't wait to get there. And I say that with no sarcasm in my voice as well. 

The scene was better than I thought. Future dad hung from the ceiling, a rope tied around his neck. It reminded me of a scene from The Testing. Looked like a suicide. But, I just couldn't add it all up. Soon be married, young, happy, not a care in the world. It just doesn't add up of how the man that was yesterday brushing my hair, blessing God for this 2nd chance, now hung dead before me. I started to step closer, but a hand blocked my path. I looked up and saw the man who drove us here. 

"Don't. Your lucky you get to be here, but you can't go anywhere ne..."

"Let her." Said another man, interrupting the policeman. I couldn't see him from my angle; the body blocked my view. 

"Sherlock, but this..." he started, but was interrupted again by the man called Sherlock. 

"I said let her, Lestrade. John isn't here, and I need a normal mind to see the little details I miss. Besides, she has been with him long enough to know some of his habits."

I looked up at Lestrade, and he nodded as I started to approach the body. I walked around to see the man he called Sherlock. Sherlock was tall, with messy black hair and a blue scarf. It was hidden among his upturned collar of the black overcoat he wore. His eyes stared intently at Richard. He then looked over at me, trying to see if he could see anything about me. 

"What's your name?" He asked, not even looking at me. 

"Reyna."

"No last name?"

"I like to keep myself as anonymous as I possibly can, Sherlock." I said, and then he just turned back to looking at the man before me. He circles the body, looking in and out of his pockets trying not to miss any surface possible. He then turns back to Lestrade, ignoring me once again. 

"Richard Kameren. Late 30's, about to get married with only one ring on his finger. Very religious man, indicated by the cross around his neck. Business man working a decent paying job. He lives with..." Sherlock continued on, but I put his voice in background as I took a look at the man who was soon to be Dad #2. I wanted to listen to him; he was quite impressive. But I had to check out the body myself. It was the one thing that would make this trip worthwhile. 

I walked around him slowly, trying to put my finger on what didn't seem right. His red tie sat on the side so he could reach his neck. I leaned in closer, seeing the noose hung tightly around his neck. It made me sick, so I walked passed it continuing my lap around his body. But as I made it to the far side, I had a feeling I missed something. Circling back, I stood firmly in place. His hair was nice and trimmed, cut down to his shoulders. His shirt was perfectly white, after just doing the laundry the other day. His pants went down past his ankles, a little wet from the rain because they were always too big on him. However, what ticked me off was the fact I couldn't see his belt 

"Tuck it in or keep it out. It looks weird both ways." 

"No, I'll do what I want. And what I want is to keep the back tucked in."

"Men. They just don't get it."

"I heard that."

It was a conversation we had just the other day. The first time I felt I had really started to bond with Richard. Remembering it made me see what was the flaw in the picture. Someone didn't want something to show, so they untucked his shirt so it wouldn't go through. The shirt is very thin. Surprised they didn't see it earlier. I pinched the bottom, careful not to disturb it too much. What I saw made my doubt in the police certain. The key piece of evidence was staring you right in the face. I just wanted to shout at them. How blind are you people?

"Uh,....Sherlock?" I said. I looked over, still holding the shirt, and saw him still taking to Lestrade. Or, to be more accurate, he was reprimanding Sherlock. 

"I told you, this isn't murder."

"But something isn't right with the picture. Something was tampered with before you got here. I know this is murder." Then under his breath, "Please let it be a murder. Love a good murder." 

"For the last time, Sherlock, let it go. It's just a suicide."

"Oh, it's 'just a suicide.'" I said. That got their attention. "Just a suicide."My American voice started to come out. I tended to do that when I spoke my second language: sarcasm. "Yeah, well. Might want to the bullet hole in his back!"


	6. Let the Games Begin

"Shut up. I'm in my mind palace." Sherlock said, but I had been completely silent since I had left the flat. He lay sprawled out on his couch, eyes closed, hands together under his chin like he was praying. He thought it would better if he thought at his own place. It was a nice cozy flat, expect for the bullets in the wall that had a spray painted smiley face on it for some reason. I chose not to ask about it. 

"Sherlock, dear." A woman came in, wearing a dark green blouse. Her scarf, which was multicolored, laid loosely around her neck tied in a similar fashion to Sherlock's. Her skirt was a simple black, with leggings underneath of a similar shade. Her short pixie hair was wispy toward the top and started to straighten toward the bottom. "Your brother keeps calling. Why don't you just answer your phone once in a while?"

He didn't move, so I hoped to fill her in on the situation. "He's in his 'mind palace', Mrs. ..."

"Hudson." She said simply. 

"I'm Reyna. He's trying to figure out about what happened to my future step-dad."

"Oh, honey," she said. "Do you want me to make you some tea?"

"Tea would be nice, thanks." Sherlock said, eyes still closed, not moving a inch.

"Not your housekeeper. What about you, Reyna?" She asked, but I simply shook my head. "What happened?" referring to Richard. 

"He was in his apartment. It looked like he commuted suicide, but there was a bullet in his back. Don't know who would want to kill him, though." 

"Don't worry. He's good at this. He'll find the killer of your father."

"Future step-father." I pointed out. She walked away, heading back to her place I assumed. I turned back to see Sherlock typing away at a laptop. I started to head over, but my phone dinged with a text. It was from an unknown number. "Choose a side." I read aloud. 

"Sorry?" Sherlock asked. 

"It's a text. From an unknown number. Probably a wrong one too."

"What else does it say? Nothing else?" Concern laced his tone. It was liked he was worried about me. But we only just met. I thought he was "just another client."

"Just some initials. Why, what's it any concern to you?"

"Because it could be someone harmless or one of the most dangerous people on the planet. Now, the initials."

"What's wrong with dangerous?"

"What are the initials?" he demanded, dodging my earlier question. 

"JM." I said. His shoulders started to tense as a mix of terror and fear danced in his eyes. With two letters, he had changed from a detective with everything under control, to a man who just got yelled at by his mother. Curiosity burned up inside me, wanting the flame to be extinguished. "Explain." 

"JM. Jim Moriarty. He's a consulting criminal where I'm a consulting detective. He has power beyond what anyone else is capable of. And yet, he is supposed to be dead." He turned away from me, trying to put the pieces together. I opened my mouth to speak, but he said the answer like he read my mind. "Shot himself. But he has the ability to fake it all. That's how good he is."

"What's his sudden interest in me?" I blurted out. I do have the tendency to blurt out the first thing on my mind. Mum is constantly complaining about it. 

"I don't know, but I wouldn't worry. Short term interest because you're with me. The only man in this reality with the capability to stop him." Sherlock said with a confident stature. But his tone disagreed, having that assurity but hiding in it the fear from earlier. I wanted to ask why he kept lying. No, hiding the truth. Why he would try to put this confidence in me only to choke on words he didn't even believe. I started walking to ask, to find out, when his phone vibrated. He barely got to it across the room when another message was received. He started to read them, and his face seem to become even more serious. If that was possible.

"Who are they from?" I asked, surprised if he would even give me the answer. 

"The first is my brother."

"You have a brother?!" I exclaimed. Shocked.

"Who I despise with passion."

"Love to see what the family reunions are like."

"Don't start." He says, and I almost feel like I could get a smile to crack on his face. But it quickly fades, and gets back to his text. "Answer my calls. The note reads: Holmes is next."

"Note? I never saw any note."

"Later victim." He says, like there is no big deal that another man was just killed. Well, it is a big deal. "Note was decoded. Surprised it took them this long to figure it out. Simply Atbash cipher."

"You knew? Unbelievable. You know and you still have a cool and collected tone like its a normal Wednesday afternoon. My mom was right; you are a psychopath."

"I prefer highly-functioning sociopath. Do the research." he said, dismissing me like I was just a little girl with a tantrum. "Back up quick....you said mom, not mum. Why?"

"Like you don't already know." He just stared at me with blank eyes. "I've seen you. The steady eyes, the darting gaze. You did it with Richard. He certainly wasn't the first and he won't be the last. You read people as easily as books. So come on detective," I jumped up onto the couch behind me. "Deduce me." I held up my arms so he could see it all. Every scrap of evidence so he doesn't miss a thing. Silence engulfed us as we stood there. If it wasn't for that, I would never had heard the door creak open. Both of us froze, only momentarily sharing a glance as he reached for something behind the desk. 

"Take this." He said, tossing me the object. I just barely caught it and almost dropped it. The blade was sleek and shiny, so much so that I could literally see my reflection. It fell naturally into my hands, the black hilt resting in my palms. I recognized the sword almost immediately. The boys always loved this kind this stuff. 

"Where did you get katanas?!?" I whispered. He didn't answer, but it spoke for itself. Do you really want to know? Answer: I don't. "Before we start, who was the other text from and what did it say."

"It was from the devil himself. And it said," he started, but Sherlock was interrupted by another man striding into the room. 

"Let the games begin."


	7. The one he feared

His grin felt sinister, his sleek black hair combed in just the right way, his suit a little too pristine. The perfect makings of a villain. I could only assume this was the infamous Moriarty since Sherlock's gaze had changed so drastically. That signature confidence has darkened into pure hatred, with fear thrown into the mix for good measure. Moriarty saw this, I think, but just continued to walk closer towards Sherlock. His hands in his pockets, he walked like he had just won the greatest achievement of them all. 

"I don't think we've met." He said, turning to face me, only inches between him and the detective. He extended a hand and his grin lessened as he got down to business. "Jim Moriarty. Maybe you've saw the papers from when I was on trial."

"Sorry, I was in America." I responded coldly. He shrugged it off, then turned back to Sherlock. 

"So, did you miss me?" He cooed. 

"How did you survive?" He said, straight to the point. 

"Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil the fun, now would I? But the answers will come. All in time, all in time." He sauntered toward me, pulling out a knife from the inside of his jacket. His smile never left his face, which only made fear him more. I wanted to run, to scream, to punch him until I saw blood. But my legs wouldn't listen, all I did was tense up as I felt him come close and brush up against me. 

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to play with fire?" He said. I shivered, since he was right on top of me. So close I could feel his breath against my neck. "Might want to back out now before I watch you burn." More silence overtook us before he spoke once more. "You're quite a brave one, but I know," He started to poke my chest. "deep down, you are so scared."

"A man is only as good as his mask." I finally manage to say. "What makes you so confident with yours?"

"Oh, defiant. I'm going to like you." His grinned, but disappeared as quickly when he saw Sherlock take a step toward us. Before I could react, his knife dug into my arm with his free hand around my throat. I dropped the sword I held, clawing at my throat to get a glimpse at air. "One More Step!" He shouts. "One...more...step." I winced in pain as he drags the blade father down my arm with each word. "I dare you." 

"She's just a client." He said. I don't know why, but that line stabbed me harder than any knife. "I don't care what you do to her."

"Liar. You do, because you just don't want to see me win. To leave with the last word. Just this once, you want Holmes to win." He didn't respond, maybe showing him he was right. I couldn't see anything because the way he held me. But I knew from the way the silence hung over us that he didn't want to admit it was true.

"Sherlock!" called a man up the stairs. I didn't recognize his voice, so it gave me a little hope. But neither of the men did anything, showing no indication of the new arrival. "Just had another run in with Mycroft. Can you please explain what is..." he said, stopping mid sentence as he entered the room. I still couldn't see with my chin turned upwards. 

"Welcome to the party, John." Moriarty said, releasing his grip on my throat. I fell to the floor, gasping for breath. I didn't even look up to see what was happening. "So sorry, but I have to go. Daddy's home. Oh, wait. He's not." I finally looked up as his face was inches from mine. I stared directly into his eyes, the seriousness perfectly illustrated. "I should know; I killed him." It took a minute for the words to sink in. I killed him. I almost rushed out after him before I was stopped by the man called John. 

"Don't. That cut will get infected if it's not treated properly. I'm a doctor, let me take care of that." I turned, finally able to get a proper look at him. He had blonde hair, combed back ever so. I could tell the color of his eyes, but I was never any good at that. He wore a tan sweater, making look like the more "normal" of the two. He lead me to one of the chairs, his face plastered with genuine concern. 

"Don't worry. It's just a flesh wound." I replied, quoting a scene from my favorite movie. He pushed down on my arm, cringing with the pain. 

"Let me wrap that up for you. Trust me, I've seen worse when I was in Afghanistan. What was you're name again?"

"Reyna." I said as he walked away to get the bandage. I sat in silence briefly, before turning back to Sherlock. He was still tense, worrying that Moriarty would change his mind. "Littleton."

"Sorry?" Sherlock said, jerking his head in my direction. 

"My name is Reyna Littleton."

"Why tell me now and not when we first met?"

"Because," I said, standing up in hopes that my point would get across better. "I only tell my last name to the people I know I can trust."


	8. Believing in Aliens

"You thinking about the others again?" Her voice broke my concentration as a left the memories to the past. Clara stood in front of me, the sonic in her hand. 

"Yeah. Finding myself thinking about them more often. Don't know what it is."

"Oh. I sense a relationship." She giggled, poking my side. 

"No!" I was laughing, trying to push her away. "John's married, Sherlock is the closest think this universe has to an android, Sam is focused on removing the mark from Dean, and Dean is....well he's just Dean

"First, I'm with the fan girls out there. Johnlock will happen." I started laughing, knowing somehow it would never happen. "And, if you need anything, you know you can trust me." She said, leaving the sonic on the bed. I picked it up, clutching it in my hand. Reminded me how this whole life started. Holding the screwdriver in my hand. Except, I was standing the middle of an airport and had no idea what it was. 

The device was strange. It had a black and white handle, with gold separating the layers. The top had metal, with a green thingy on top that glowed when I pressed a button. The green thing on top also emitted a weird sound as it glowed. But I didn't really have time to ponder what was the weird device I had found on the floor of Heathrow Airport. I had a plane to catch. 

"Maybe I should come with you this time." Mom said. She has been worried ever since he fiancé was killed. This was the first time I had left her sight line since that day, so she had even more paranoia than usual. 

"Mom, I'll be fine. And if you don't stop worrying, I'll be late for my flight. It's a long way to LAX." I always met my dad in a different city, close to the one he was at now. But it wasn't always reliable. 

"Ok. Ok. But call me the minute you get off the plane." She said. I kissed her on the check and dashed toward the terminal. I've been doing this every three months for almost the past 5 years. It was almost a habit, and I didn't even think about anything until I was in my seat. My hands slipped into my pocket, remembering the device I still had in there.

"Where is it!?!" A woman next to me was digging through he bag, looking through it for something she had to have misplaced. Her brown hair that ran down to her shoulders covered her face, and she constantly brushed it out of the way with a manicured hand. She wore a light jacket over a dark red dress, with black stockings that ran down to her boots. 

"Do you need any help?" I asked. 

"Yes. Wait, no. I don't know." She replied, sitting down. "The thing I'm looking for. You'd have no idea what it is."

"Well, then describe it. Maybe I've seen it before."

"No, because I can guarantee you've never seen it before." But I thought I did, for some reason. And at that moment, I decided to pull out the device out of my pocket. Maybe it was to prove her point; I don't know. 

"You wanna bet?" I said. She grabbed it out of my hand before I could really finish. "I guess that's what you were looking for. What is it anyway?" 

She started to speak, but was interrupted by the flight attendant. "Complementary earbuds?"

"Thank you." I said, taking a pair. I grabbed the woman's before she had a chance to take them out of the bag. "Don't wear them. I'm on a plane every three months and this has never happened." She looked at me skeptically, before putting down in the compartment in front of her. 

"Of course this has to happen. Just a typical day." She sighs. 

"Really? I never thought someone could as crazy of a life as me."

"I travel with a alien in a box that's bigger on the inside through time and space fighting extra terrestrial monsters."

"My parents are divorced and I travel between London and America. In America I'm hunting vampires, demons, Khan worms, and anything supernatural. While in London I'm solving mysteries with the world's only consulting detective and his blogger." She remained silent, both of us knowing who had won before laughing. 

"Clara Oswald." She said as the plane started to take off. 

"Reyna Littleton." We talked for a while talking about our crazy, insane, anything-but-normal lives. Finally, I was able to talk to someone about this. Even just one woman I just met. It didn't matter, it was just one less secret I had to keep. The attendants kept saying to put the earbuds on, but neither me or Clara did. We just kept exchanging stories, talking like we were the best of friends. 

"So, he shouts up, to nobody in particular, 'Everyone, take 5!'"

"And he passes out?"

"He passes out in the middle of Victorian London!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up for effect. I'm laughing hysterically, barely able to contain myself. Let people stare; I didn't care. 

"I have to admit. Even though 11 was more lighthearted, I'm really liking the Regeneration Doctor." I was going to say more, but I was thrown forward into the seat in front of me. I stood up and instantly started to feel black and blue from where my body made contact. To my left, Clara looked out the window across the wing. 

"The engines have completely shut off." She said as she turned back to me. "But we are still in the air." We looked at each other, worry in our eyes, and I reached down and held on to the armrests for dear life. The plane started to nosedive, knuckles turning white. None of the other passengers seemed to react, all of them seemed to stare at the space in front of them mindlessly. 

"Now I can see why Dean if afraid of planes. Someone please do something!" 

"Not much we can," Clara shouted back, but stopped when a wheezing sound started to fill our ears. "Just promise me you won't tell anyone my story."

"A) This is not the time to be making promises, and B) Why now, of all times?"

"Just please do it!" She shouted. I was taken back by her tone, but I ended up agreeing.

"Yes. As long as you don't tell anyone mine. Now please explain."

"That sound," she started, pausing so I could hear it again. " may sound like wheezing to you. But to me it's the sound of hope & justice & all that is right in the universe. That wheezing is the sound that means whoever did this is about to regret they ever did this."

"Just tell me what it is!" I said, getting a little tired. 

"The sound of the Tardis."


	9. Saving them or Killing them

I looked back and saw a older man emerge from the Tardis. He was older at around early 50's. He wore a black jacket over a matching colored vest and white button shirt. The jacket was only buttoned once, so you could see the red underlying when his hands were in his pockets. But whenever I looked at him, my eyes kept looking back at the eyebrows. They were almost like they could function independently, because they always seemed to be cross. 

"This reminds me of the time I first met you." Clara said, getting out of her seat and following him. I tried to follow them(key word: tried) and ended up laying on my back in the cockpit. To this day the details are still fuzzy on how I got into this position. 

"Ok, who are you and what is going on?!?" I asked the Doctor as I stood up. Though I already knew the answer to the first one, it was what any normal person would do. 

"Quoting my past self here." He said, grabbing the controls to the plane. "I'm The Doctor. I'm an alien from outer space. I'm two thousand years old, I've got two hearts and I can't fly a plane!"

"Not making me feel any better!" I shouted at him. 

"Now this really reminds me of the first time I met you." Clara said. The Doctor jerked up on the controls, trying to stop us from crashing somewhere over Greenland or the Arctic Circle. My mouth remained shut, as I'm not a screamer, but Thnks Fr Th Mmrs blared loud and clear in my head. I'm a panic singer, what can I say? It felt like those moments where I knew I was going to die. 

"And there!" He said. I opened the eyes I didn't even realize I closed and saw him flick a switch. I assumed it was the autopilot, because he removed both his hands from the wheel and spoke into the intercom. "Crisis averted."

"You don't really need to that." Clara said to him. "We're the only ones on this plane awake."

"Really? Well, than I feel like an idiot. Pretend that never happened. Now," he said, turning to me. "I'm the Doctor, just the Doctor before you ask, and that blue box is a time machine that also travels in space."

"Ok I didn't ask how you got here," I said. He walked past me to the Tardis and I follow to about halfway. "although that does help explain my next question. What I did ask was What is going on?"

"No idea." He says as Clara hands him back his... device. Still bugs me that I don't know what it is. 

Suddenly, a pair of arms takes hold of me. I look and see a pair of men on either side of me, clutching my arms so hard I thought I was losing circulation. The pain was worse on my right arm; his hand connected just perfectly on the spot Moriarty had made weeks earlier. Another pair of men take ahold of Clara as she tries to squirm away. The look on her face only show them adding more pain. The earbuds the flight attendants have given us were on their ears, a blue light steadily pulsing on each one. 

"You have information regarding the Doctor." The one on Clara's left said. 

"Okay, then why do you want me? I only just met the guy." I said, trying to indicate the Doctor standing right in front of me. 

"You will be upgraded." The man on my right said. I winced. His voice sounded all mechanical, unlike anything human. 

"Ok, well then let me stop you there." The Doctor said. "The Doctor, hello."  
He waved at them as they continued to stare at him with blank expressions. He sighed, and pulled out his sonic. "I give you one chance. You release the girls and leave this planet. For good this time."

"Or what?" One of them sneered. "You have no power over us."

"One chance! Take it or I will destroy you and your entire army!" He yelled at them. I looked, but I didn't see any signs of an army. 

"Never." One of them said coldly. 

"You had your chance. Clara, cover your ears." He pushed the button on the thingy, and a loud high-pitched buzzing filled my ears. I instinctually went to cover my ears, and realized the two men beside were in so much more pain. Their faces etched out an expression of fear that I can never forget. I almost felt bad for them. I saw the Doctor let go of the button, and all the men fell to the ground limply. 

"What did you do?" I asked him. 

"What I had to. They were in pain and I ended it for them in the nicest way possible." He said coldly. But through the ice I could fell some regret. 

"You killed them?!" I yelled at him. "A whole plane full of people and you just killed them. With...with...what is that anyway?"

"Sonic screwdriver." Clara said, for the first time in a while. "And he didn't kill these people."

"Well if you didn't then who did?" I asked. 

"They did." Clara said, pointing behind me with a trembling finger. I turned, and saw a monster that plagued my nightmares. Metal covered its entire body, with its all to familiar human like shape. It's round, black eyes stared back at me, the teardrop in the corner clear as day. I always used to think they did that to show inside the person just keeps crying. But what sickened me was the familiar logo branded in the middle of it's chest, the C that marked their identity. 

"No, I won't let you! Anyone else, just stay away from my sister! Have MERCY!"

"Cybermen have no concept of mercy."

"Tardis, NOW!" I heard the Doctor shout as he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the blue box. Time felt like it slowed down as I just kept staring at the Cyberman. I almost tried to rip my arm out of his grip, but I was all to scared to have that person clamp down on my shoulder like it did to her. No, not person, Machine. That's the word. 

"Celeste!" I heard myself scream, over and over again. Constantly, each syllable more painful than the last. "Celeste! Celeste!" So young, so full of pain and sorrow. 

"What were you thinking?" Clara said as she closed the doors to the Tardis. "You could've gotten yourself killed!" I stayed silent for a while, not moving an inch. "Well?"

I turned to face the two of them. "I need to go back out there."


	10. Opening the Past

"You are not going back out there." Clara protested. "That Cyberman could kill you."

"Don't you think I know that." I said. "That thing changed my life back in 2007 and I'm not going to do to others what it did to me!" 

"I'm not letting you back out there." The Doctor said, blocking the door I still stood by. "No matter what happened before." 

"Well you wouldn't know." I said, walking toward Clara. My face remained the same; a mix of regret and grief with a little pain added in for good measure. I felt him grab my arm tight around the spot it had been cut earlier.   
He spun me around and looked me directly in the eyes. 

"I do. I've lost more people that you've could have imagined. I thought, for over 200 years, that I destroyed my own people and watched them burn. And it doesn't sit good in my hearts. So don't talk to me about not understanding loss." 

I stood looking at him, even after he let go of my arm. After he spoke, I saw it in his eyes. The pain and sorrow as he remembers every face that has died in his name. 

"Well it's hard. To remember a time...where you couldn't do anything." I say. "And now, being presented with that opportunity, it's hard not to take. Every time it's on an article, or a news story, or I even see the C on its famous logo, I just hear the screaming."

"What happened?" Clara asked, putting her arm around me. 

"They.." I said, tears streaming down my face. "..Killed my sister, Celeste. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can here her scream when the metal man clamps down on her solider. She was trying...to protect me. And all I did was scream her name." I pushed myself away from Clara, curling up against the wall. "My sister, taken away at age 7. Do you how hard it was for me?"

"I think I can relate." She said, sliding down onto the floor next to me. "My boyfriend was killed by them recently. I could barely get out of bed the next few days. It was like...a part of me was ripped out." I looked at her, and saw her trying to hold back tears. 

"Thanks. Just another reason why I trust you." I said to her. "Now, um, I know this is a little weird, but how is it bigger on the inside? Seriously, how is this possible." She laughed, as did I, distracting us from the Cybermen for a moment. 

"Tardis is an acronym. It stands for Time and Relative..."

"...Dimensions in Space." The Doctor finished. "Basically, it's another dimension. Although it's funner when people say it's bigger on the inside." We all laughed, like friends just meeting up. Forgetting about the plane and Cybermen and the plane and just joking around. "So, do you want to?"

"Want to do what?" I asked. Clara just smiled at smiled at me. 

"One trip, inside the Tardis. A little make-up gift." He said. "All of time and space, wherever, whenever you want." I didn't answer right away, because I didn't know what to say to that. All of creation and reality was mine to travel to. I had the choice. But I had a feeling I already knew the answer. 

"Home." I responded confidently. "Before The Battle of Canary Wharf. I just want to see her, one last time." He blinked, but was soon flicking switches and buttons all around the console. The same wheezing noise filled my ears, but this time it sounded different. I closed my eyes, feeling it comforting me as I take my first trip in time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My little kicked up, high into the sky, as I squealed with joy. But that was the past, on the days I never remembered. Just watching me, smiling from ear to ear, unknown of what's to come. It's been harder and harder to keep that same innocence. But I wasn't focused on me. Celeste was there, pushing me like the sister she was. Her dirty blonde hair resting against her back. That smile was I remember was on her face now. 

"That's your sister." Clara said, watching the same scene I did. 

"Yeah. She looks so much....different than I remember. But when your sister is killed when you are little, you tend to forget some of the details." I turn away for a second, trying not to have them see me cry. Clara doesn't say anything, she just keeps looking at me. But I don't think it was the younger one. She walks away, but I don't follow right away. I'm there for about ten more minutes before I begin to head back. 

"Excuse me." I turned around and saw my sister looking right at me. "Do you happen to have a band-aid? My sister got cut."

"I'm...sorry. I don't." I responded, trying not to falter with my voice. Then I saw her eyes held the same sadness as mine. "You okay? You don't look so happy."

"It's fine." She said. Oh, I'm so going to regret doing this. Or, the Doctor was going kill me first if he ever found out. 

"No. I know that look. And I've been having it way too often lately, trying to care for my sister."

"Do you," she started, but Celeste stopped to look back at me, the younger one. Really confusing when there are multiple you's. " Do you have any tips for her? I been doubting myself lately." I stood silent, taking it all in. 

"Protect her." I said, finally. "It's all I know I'm good at with mine." 

"Wait, why?" She shouted, but I already started to walk away. "Why protect her? What kind of advice is that?!"

"Listen!" I turned and yelled. "Make of it what you will. I wish I could explain, I really do, but I can't."

"Why not?!?" 

"I just....just can't. I'm sorry!" I shouted, before I took off running through the woods. I didn't know time travel all that well, but for sure I was pushing its limits. Talking to my deceased sister was too much for me to handle. I had to leave her before she pushed me more for answers. I saw the blue box and leaned against the side. My breathing heavy, I had to take a moment before I went back in. 

"Hey." Clara said, as she stuck her head out the door. "I, uh, talked to the Doctor. And I think I've convinced him to take you on a trip once in a while."


	11. The Beginning of it all

So that's what it become. Me, hiding my separate lives from everyone but Clara. At least I had one person. But even then, it was like trying to keep a bomb blowing up from inside you. Every time you see them, it just kills you that you have hide such a big secret from them. But I knew I couldn't avoid the inevitable for long. I just didn't expect it this soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hurried along the busy streets, hands in my pockets as I tried to get out of the wind. I stopped again, just to make sure what Sherlock had texted was correct and I wasn't just losing it. 

Abandon Warehouse. Missing People. How could I saw no?-SH

I sighed. This was Sherlock, always jumping into the little things. But I knew the warehouse he was referring to. The only one I knew of. It was on Markham street, only a short walk away. I started walking again, picking up the pace a bit. It was harder than a normal day. I hadn't broken in my new boots yet, and the right one was a little tight. My phone buzzed again, and I saw it was from Sherlock again. 

If Inconvenient, come anyway.-SH

Like I would say no? Besides, it was something to distract me. Mom was on another business ordeal, the boys at school, and I was walking toward someplace with missing people. I hated that feeling of being normal for too long. The building soon lumbered into view, falling apart with the letters only making faint imprints on the decaying sign. I shuddered. They've always given me the nerves, abandon buildings. 

"Glad you came. Wasn't sure if you had anything planned." Sherlock said, as I met the two boys getting out of the cab. John as cute as ever in his little sweater, and Sherlock doing the thing again. Turning up his collar to look cool and mysterious. Well, maybe today it was for the wind, but either way he was definitely going to get words from John. 

"Well, how could I say no? Besides, I've had worse days." I said. Rule 1: Be as honest as you can with Sherlock. It makes it easier. 

"Nice jacket." John said, as we walked up toward the tape. 

"Thanks. It was a gift from Dad."

"For what?" 

"Her 15th birthday." Sherlock said, being clever as he lifted up the tape for us. I ducked under, followed by John. 

"Sixteen." I corrected. OCD, again. We were silent, as Lestrade walked up to us, a recorder in hand. 

"Just like the others. No body, just vanished. Except the victim left us a message." He says, pressing the button on the recorder. 

"Hello?! My name is...isn't important now." A woman said, her voice wavering as she spoke into the recorder. "There's an angel, and its stone. And I have...to do this quick. Because I can't...can't look away or blink. That was the...the American man's mistake. He blinked, and I'm all alone." She said. The line went silent briefly, before she spoke again. 

"They've found me. The angels...they are here. Oh, I'm scared. I've....I've heard this happened at...at Wester Drumlins. Please, help. Somebody...anyone. I can't keep this..." The line then went silent, and Lestrade pressed the stop button.

"The message kept playing until we found this. And we have no signs of any of the "Stone Angels" as of yet. We haven't sent anyone in yet, and that's the reason why." He pointed behind me, and I saw Sherlock already heading inside. 

"Thanks, Lestrade. And, um, can I have that recorder?" I asked. He tossed it at me, and I just barely caught it. 

"No problem. We have everything we want back at the station. Besides, you heard everything that was said on there." As he finished, I ran to catch up to Sherlock as he disappeared into the darkness of the building. He was standing under the patch on sunlight in the corner when I saw him. 

"Any ideas?" I asked, but I'm pretty sure he already had several. Always does. 

"Split up. I doubt the Angels are far." He said as John came over. 

"How? This is basically a maze." I said, and it was true. Shelves of boxes filled the bottom floor, with the top floor just as bad. No wonder the Angels used this place. Nobody would be able to find them. Even if was navigable, there was still no certainty that they were here. 

"Well," John started, but was interrupted by Sherlock. 

"Reyna, John, take the upper level while I search the ground."

"You could let him finish one sentence?!?" I said, before looking to find a staircase. "Seriously, he has to show off!" I said to nobody, just kinda doing a self rant. We kept walking around in the endless rows of shelves, but all we saw were rows and rows of boxes. Silent for at least ten minutes, John finally spoke up. 

"So, if today is your birthday, why are you here?" He asked. Reasonable. But I was ready for the answer. The boys had asked me the same thing last year. But this time I was in London, not the middle of Tornado Alley. 

"I've never made a big deal out of it I guess." I say, as John walks around the corner. He gestures for me to continue, so I keep talking. "Ever since the divorce, I didn't feel up to it since my family was never together. My parents set up arrangements so I'll do it with both of them. It just wasn't the same as before, so I kinda stopped celebrating." I paused, but there was no indication that John had heard any of it. 

"John?" I asked as I peaked my head around the corner. But I didn't see John, but stone Angels. They had fangs bared, sharp nails extended out about the same distance trying to reach you. One had a scar across the left eye, screaming almost like it was in pain. But they both left me standing there, unmoving, eyes fixated on them. Because even though I haven't seen them, I knew exactly what they were. "Sherlock!"

"What is it?" He shouted, annoyed. I heard footsteps trudging toward me. 

"I found the Angels!" I yelled back. He was with me in an instant he was with me. "Look at them!" I shouted at him again. "Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink."

"John!" He screamed. "John!"

"The Angels took him." I said. "I don't know which took him."

"Where is he?" Sherlock demanded. 

"Somewhen." 

"What do you mean?"

"I only know what I know from the DVD Easter egg from 2007." And what Clara told me. But, let's not get into that at the moment. "But when you're touched by these Weeping Angels, you're sent back in time and they consume the energy of the days you might have lived. But you can't look away."

"Yes, I remember. Quantum locked being attempting to get a "phone box" to absorb the energy from the sun." He said, his voice without any of the panic that was in mine. "How do remember so much from it?" 

"Because it was one of the things that helped me when my sister was killed. It helped me through the pain." 

"Well, back away from it before you have the same fate as those people who went to ..." He paused, and I think he started to connect the dots. "...Wester Drumlins." He said, but in a softer tone. 

"I'm so sorry." I said as I walked up to the Angel that was closer to me. "I can't do that, and you know as much as I do how much John means to us both."

"What are you doing?" He asked, worry creeping into his voice. 

"I didn't see which angel took John." I said, not even having confidence in myself. "So, I'm letting it touch me. I'll go back in time and see if that's where John is."

"And you want me to the same with the other one." Sherlock responded. I heard his heavy footsteps and knew he was walking closer to the Angel with the scar. "You know you have no way to come back to the present once you're in the past."

"I know a guy." I said, and looked at Sherlock. His knees were shaking and his held his head tall. I tried to remember everything about him. The famous coat, the blue scarf, the messy hair. Because I knew I didn't have much time before I was touched by the Angel. And I was ready when it did, sending me into the past. And hopefully closer to John.


	12. In the Summer of '69

My head hit cement when I could finally got a grasp on where I was. Drops of water trickled onto my forehead as I looked up at the sun shining directly in my eyes. For a moment I couldn't remember what had happened. But it flooded back to me. The Angels, Sherlock, my 16th birthday. 

"Right." I said aloud. "Now, when am I?" Putting my hands underneath me, I pushed myself up onto my feet as my eyes started to adjust. Studying my surroundings, I saw I was in a deserted alleyway with only wrappers surrounding my feet. A man was at the far end, pulling bags of stuff out of his pockets to people looking over their shoulders constantly. He basically had drug dealer written on his forehead. 

Turning to leave, I wasn't even out of the alleyway when the screaming began. I turned to see one of the men was pinned against the wall clawing at the hand around his throat. Another laid on the ground dead. The third had the first man in his grip, and didn't react as he cried for mercy. 

"Why is never easy with humans?" He sighed before snapping his neck. He looked down at the victims, smiling at the sight of them. He then turned and saw me shaking. That's when I ran. I ran hard and fast down an empty street, the only sounds being my labored breathing and his footsteps following me. Hitting a busy intersection, I was able to make it across the street before more people blocked my pursuer. 

That's when he smoked out. The black vapor trickled out of his mouth as his former "meat suit" fell limply to the ground. For me, I was both scared and excited. Scared since it was the first one I faced alone, excited because I knew how to take it down. The smoke from the demon went into an tall man, and the eyes turned black almost immediately. 

"Ah that feels much better." He said, ignoring my presence. "I think I like the taller ones much better. Now if you scream, I will kill you, so I advise you don't."

"What...are...you?" I said, trying to mimic being scared. 

"Oh, right to business. Well, let's say I'm a demon." 

"From hell? You're kidding?" His eyes turned black, probably just to show off. At least he was buying it. I had to be a pretty good actress to fool Sherlock. 

"Does this look like I'm kidding?" He said, as his eyes changed back to normal. "Now, do you have any ... requests before I kill you?"

"No, because I'm not going to die." I said confidently. I tried to model the charisma Dean had, as well as strategize my moments. One wrong move and I could die. "Because it's my birthday."

"Honey, I've killed lots of people. I really don't care if it's your birthday."

"Oh, but the best things about birthdays is the gifts." I pulled down my shirt to show him my new tattoo that the boys have given me, an anti-possession symbol. It was on the upper left part of my chest, just like the boys. I then reached down into my right boot to pull out my angel blade which was also new. "You like?"

"Hunter." He spat out the word like it was poison. "Should have known. I thought they all died."

"Not all of us." I said, slowly walking toward him. "Some survive. Did you think we were all killed?"

"I was there. I saw everyone killed." He said as he backed away. "It was beautiful. All the blood, the screams, the death. How did a little girl like you survive?"

"Guess. You have the rest of your life."

"Which will be a while, since I know you won't be able to kill me. There were plenty of chance you could of, but you didn't."

"It's called strategy."

"It's called fear. Because you just seem too ... nice. And in this world, there is no place for nice. It will just be your destruction. And that's why I know and can say it confidently. You can't kill me."

"But I have no problem doing it." A man said from the shadows. The demon just had enough time to look around before a knife went straight into his chest. I turned away, and all I heard were his screams as he died. Turning, I was shocked to find out who it was in the shadows. 

"Sam?" I asked, and he stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself. He must have been the American the woman on the recording mentioned. But he looked the same, a plaid shirt underneath his jacket. His hair still ran long, but he shaved recently which was good. 

"Reyna?" He said, just as shocked as I was. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, the year 1969 is a personal favorite of mine. Besides, if we're early enough we can see the moon landing." We both started laughing. I think I was only person I knew who could make a joke out of being trapped in the past. But the lighthearted moment was brief, and the mood became more serious. "So, Sam, what are you doing in England?"

"It was getting quiet back in the States, so I came here because of some reports that sounded like a wendigo. Dean stayed behind, mainly because of his Aviophobia, and I spent a little time trying to see if anything here had a way to remove the mark. With no luck, I was going to head home when several missing persons accounts came into play. All were at the same warehouse, so I check it out and here I am. You?"

"Investigating the same disappearances with my friends, Sherlock and John." He gave me a quizzical look, and I just put it off the only way I could. "Long story. Anyway, John got sent back by the Angels and we didn't see which one. So, Sherlock and I each took an angel to see if we could find John. No luck though here."

"And did you think that you had no way to get back when you let the angel send you back."

"I know a guy." was all I said, before pulling out my cell. Sam rolled his eyes at me, blissfully unaware that it was upgraded for universal roaming. And the Tardis was on speed dial. 

"You do realize the cell phone hasn't been invented yet?!" Sam said to me. However I ignored it, since the phone was still ringing. 

"Cmon Doctor. Pick up." I prayed. But they weren't answered since it went to voicemail. 

"Oh, Blimey, Okay. Probably leave a message at the tone or something. Sorry, I wasn't really trying to do this. I was looking for the Brakes!" Another version of the Doctor said, one that was much younger than mine. A beep went off after. 

"Doctor. It's Reyna. Listen, me and ... a friend of mine are stuck in 1969. It's ..." I look to Sam, and he hands me a newspaper he snagged. I look at the top to find the date printed in small black letters. "... July 27, 1969 and I need you to pick us up. Listen, I'll explain everything just hurry." I spoke, then hung up. 

"You really think that's going to work?"

"Yes. If anyone can get us home it's the Doctor."

"Who's the Doctor?" Sam asked,and I sighed knowing I needed to tell him. 

"I'll explain." I said, just as I heard the sound of a handgun cocking. I turn to see John, holding the gun that was pointed at us. My face was a mix confusion and fear, while my eyes held worry and relief within. 

"You'd better get started then. Because you have a whole lot of it to do to me."


	13. How do I explain this?

"John, please, just put the gun down." I said calmly, failing to hide the panic in my words.

"Not until you explain." He said, not releasing his hand from the trigger. "Everything. Who he is, how I got here, where is this. Everything."

"Well, two things. One, I thought you might act a little more ... what's the word ... rational about this thing. And two I'm not going to give you any answers until you put the gun down."

"John, please just ..." Sam said. Or started to say before I interrupted him. 

"Sam, stop talking. Your not making the situation any better. Now please John, I know this has happened before." John looks down, probably back to all the times Sherlock kept secrets from him. His face filled with that hurt feeling you only get when someone you really trust lets you down. "Please just, try to understand why I did it."

"You lied to us." He said, his tone soft. He brought the gun down and removed his hand from the trigger. But none the less, the loaded gun still remained in his hand. 

"I didn't lie. I just ... kept secrets. Everyone does. And even if I did tell you, you'd never believe me in a million years." 

"What could be so bad that you couldn't tell us?" Sam asked, and I didn't know which of the thousands of reasons I should start off with. But I didn't have too since I could already hear the sound of the Tardis. It's usual Vworp Vworp sound filled the air as the boys just went silent. Not me though. 

"No no no. That's ... just brilliant timing. No, it's Bloody Fantastic!" I yelled, slipping into my British accent like I do when I get mad. Throwing my hands up into the air, I just felt ready to give this all up. "This day just Keeps. Getting. Better. Why? Why does this always happen to me?"

"What is that?" John asked, while Sam just stood there watching as it materialized. Probably think about how this is actually not the weirdest thing he's seen. And you really didn't want to know the words that came out of my mouth. The Doctor pooped out of the doors moments later, almost oblivious to Sam and John. 

"Reyna. How exactly did you get here?" He asked. 

"Angels." I said, and he nodded in agreement. He pointed at John & Sam. 

"These your friends?" I nodded. "Hello, I'm the Doctor."

"I'm John."

"And I'm Sam."

"Okay." I said, ending the introductions. "I'm going to explain everything. And please hold your questions until the end." I walked over to where John was standing. "John Watson. Blogger for the consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes. Lives in London and deals in murders by people and being solved logically."

"Sam Winchester." I said as I walked over by him where he stood at the other end of the alleyway. "Lives in America. Hunts all thing Supernatural. Werewolves, demons, wendigos, leviathans, vampires, etc. Hunts with his brother, Dean, but he's back in America because he has a fear of planes. He also has the biblical Mark of Cain on his arm, in which Sam is trying to find a cure for."

"Finally the Doctor." I say, making my way over to him. "Alien who travels in time and space in a big blue box called the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. It's bigger on the inside. Currently traveling with Clara Oswald. Where is she anyway?" I ask the Doctor, craning my neck to see over his shoulder. 

"She's on a date with Danny." He said, and went to the control panel. I hesitated a bit, but tried to act as normal as I could. Striding up to the controls, I looked back to see Sam and John standing in the doorway. John's jaw was wide open taking in the sight, while Sam has his mouth closed. But his eyes filled with wonder at something. I smiled. It was always a pleasure to somebody's first look at the Tardis. And I don't get too many of them these days. 

"So, where to now?" I ask him, hoping to obtain more evidence of a suspicion I had. 

"Well, I'll let the guests decide. Sam has to get back to his brother in America, and we have to get your other friend whose in time. What's his name, again?"

"Sherlock." John said. "Sherlock Holmes. Who you really shouldn't show the inside of this though." 

"The Sherlock Holmes?" The Doctor asked. "I thought he was just a character by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Well, he's not!" John responded defensively. "He's as real as you, and he's ... he's my best friend." We all just stood in silence for a minute, before I was jerked to the side. I grabbed onto the nearest railing and held on as I scanned the room for the others. Sam was a few feet away, hanging on to a railing with one hand. The other clutched John, with his head looking down. "The Doctor" was at the controls, pressing buttons to try and and straighten us us. He pulled a lever, but all it did was change the direction we were leaning. 

"Doctor!" I yelled at him, almost drowned out at the sound of what I thought was a gong. "What did you do?"

"I don't know." He said, as the Tardis straighten out, sending the four of us to the floor. "She's acting up again. I'm going to try and find out what's wrong with her."

"Her?" John asked, as he leaned on his elbows. He was a little closer, after getting out from under Sam. 

"Just shut up." He said, pointing his finger. Then he turned and walked toward the Tardis corridors. When he was out of sight, I stood up and walked up to the console. "Sammy, can you lend me a hand?" He shouted. 

"Don't call me Sammy!" He shouted back, and started to head after him, but I held a hand out to stop him. 

"Just a random question. Did you ... notice anything strange about him?"

"Beside the fact that he's an alien and has a box that can travel in time? No. Then again, I hardly even know the guy. Why?"

"Nothing. Just, something he said." I say, and remove my hand from him. "You can go to him. Don't trust him, though."

"Why?" John asks, walking toward me. I look and see the same curious look in Sam's eyes. 

"Because I don't think that's the real Doctor."


	14. Previous Events

John and I sat in a cozy little living area, waiting for Sam. The fireplace blazed with a holographic fire, but even just the image helped wither away the cold feeling in my gut. John sat in one of the armchairs, a cup of tea in his hands. I sat on the floor by the fire, taking occasional glances between John and the door. He was taking this really well, but he wasn't the person I was overly concerned about their reaction to the Tardis. 

"So," John said, breaking a silence that was emasculating in the room. "What makes you think this isn't your friend?"

"I'd rather talk about when Sam gets back." I responded, wanting to dodge the subject for as long as possible.

"Ok. Then, how'd you meet Sam?"

"My dad loves the hope of meeting something supernatural. Bit of an adrenaline junkie, you may say. He ended getting possessed by a demon. That's when I met the Winchesters."

"And that's what was in the man in 1969?" I nodded, and he sighed in response. He took another sip of his tea, then leaned father back into his chair. "I still find it hard to believe I was in 1969."

"Well, that's my life with the Doctor in a nutshell. But at least I know where I'm going. Well, most of the time." The door to the room slammed shut, and we both turned our heads to see Sam. 

"Alright, so he's not a demon." He said, taking a seat in the chair opposite John. "Drank holy water, no problem. What makes you so confident it's not him, Reyna?"

"It's what he said." I started, turning toward both men. "He said Clara was on a date with Danny. Two things wrong with that sentence. First, the Doctor never calls Danny by his real name. Always refers to him as "PE"."

"Maybe he's grown on him." John suggested. "Why does he call him PE?"

"I don't know, exactly. Clara thinks it's his prejudice against soldiers."

"That's just great." John said, going for another sip of his tea. 

"That still doesn't prove that's not the Doctor." Sam interjected. 

"That's the second point. Danny ... he's dead. And if I know the Doctor, he wouldn't be stupid enough to cause a paradox." I said. "And Clara knows that. So, I need to figure out where Clara is, where the Doctor is, and what is the thing that's claiming he's the Doctor. Any ideas what it could be? Besides a demon. But what's harder is that's he has dealt with aliens that can copy themselves. Autons, Sontarans, Flesh, and robots too. Could be anything knowing that man." 

"So this is real?" John said, speaking again. "This is actually happening."

"Yeah." I said, standing up. "You get used to it after a while. Well, I'm going to look for The Doctor."

"The real one or the other one?" Sam asked. 

"Whichever I can find. Also, if you here gun shots, its me." I said, and left the two in the room. Leaning against the wall, I sighed and started to navigate the endless corridors inside the Tardis. It felt it would be almost impossible to locate the Doctor here. I've got virtually no chance to find him. 

After a while, I got a little curious. See, I didn't touch a single door and I wanted to. So, picking one at random, I clutch the brass handle and push the door open. Inside were a bunch of tiny orbs floating around. Voices spoke all around the room, and the occasional image flashed on the empty walls on either side. As orbs passed in front of me, I could clearly hear what they spoke. Sometimes I recognized the voice, but most times I didn't. 

"What's that? In the mirror? Or the corner of your eye?" 

"When he's stressed, he likes to insult species."

"I'm a doctor. Probably not the one you were expecting."

"You will find there is so much else to think about, to remember our lives are different than anyone else's. That's the exciting thing, that nobody in the universe can do what we're doing."

"Good question. But sinister. What's the answer to not get us killed?"

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." I grabbed the orb the second I heard that voice. It was Dean's, no doubt. But the doctor hadn't met Dean yet, and these seemed like his memories. So, how was Dean in the Doctor's mind? I looked down to see the orb in my hands, pulsing on the inside with colorful lights. I wasn't sure how it worked, so I poked the top of it with my finger. Nothing. 

"What are you doing in here?" I dropped the orb before I could figure out how it worked or understand why the Doctor would know Dean. I turned to see the Doctor standing in the doorway looking at me with intense eyes. I felt a little whoosh behind me, and saw in the corner of my eye the orb go zooming away. 

"I ... I was looking for you. Just happened to stumble across this room while I was looking." I stammered, slowly making my way toward the door as I did. 

"Why were you looking for me?" 

"Just one or two questions. Where's Clara, again?"

"I told you, she's on a date with Danny."

"Right, yeah." I said, confirming my suspicions about him. "Next question, and please don't flip out. Where's the Doctor."

"I'm the Doctor."

"No you're not." I rushed up, and pushed him against the hallway wall. "That excuse won't work on me. Now, where is he?"

"What makes you think I'm not who I say I am?" He says, trying to get me to relax. But I was almost positive he was panicked underneath that cool demeanor. 

"Because PE's dead, Danny boy." I pushed even harder against the wall. "Now, to the essential question. Where. Is. The. Doctor?" I hear the door to the other room close. I turn my head, expecting to see either John or Sam, but it's neither of them. 

"Right here." The real doctor said, a smile plastered across his face.


	15. Duplicates

I looked at the other Doctor, surprised at his almost perfect timing. In doing this though, I had to release my grip on the fake one. He pushed back on my wrists and made me stumble to where the real doctor was. 

"What are you?" The Doctor asked, and the other one blinked to show white eyes with a small black pupil. Blinking again, it returned to its normal eye color. It lunged, and went straight for the doctor.

I tried to put myself in between the two, but I was thrown across the hallway like a rag doll. The two were struggling over dominance, and I was lost on who was who. I knew the "doctor" was a shifter now, so I had an idea how to kill it. Grabbing one of the guns out of my jacket, I aimed up at the ceiling and fired. It took about three shots to get their attention. When I did, they both looked at me with a look that said everything. 

"Relax. It's only blanks. You two look like Dean when his baby got scratched. Now, I have a real gun in here filled with silver bullets and I don't want to shoot the timelord. Now, which one of you is the shifter?" They both pointed at each other, and I sighed. This was going to be harder than I thought. 

"I'm the real one." The one on the left said, before righty interjected. 

"No, I'm real. He's the shifter! You have to believe me, Reyna."

"I can't really believe either of you when I have no idea who's who and how many regenerations the real one has left." I say as Sam and John come around the corner. John has his gun firmly gripped in his hands, while Sam hid his angel blade under his sleeve. 

"Shifter?" Sam questioned upon seeing the two doctors, and I nodded. 

"What's a Shifter?" John asked, as Sam pulled out his gun. 

"A shapeshifter. It takes the form of whoever it's copying, and then has access to their memories. They start out human, so often they can act on human tendencies like greed." I explained. "There only weakness is silver, hence why me and Sam's guns are loaded with silver bullets. The thing is I don't know whose the real one and whose the shifter."

"That's just makes our job harder." Sam muttered, pointing his gun at the doctor on the left. "Any ideas?"

"Why me?" I asked. "I haven't run into these things as often as you."

"Well, you know him better than any of us." He said. "I've never met him before." I looked between the Doctors, trying to see if one of them would slip. But the fake had the real one's memories, so I couldn't go on common tells like Dean taught me. When he wasn't kicking my ass at Poker. 

"Hold on. Do shifters tend to duplicate internal features?"

"I'm not following." The Doctor closer to me spoke.

"It's better that you aren't. Sam?"

"I don't know. Why?" Sam wondered as I walked up to the Doctor closer to him. I rested my hand on his chest, listening for something in particular. When I was confident, I moved over to the other doctor to confirm. Resting my hand on his chest, I listened carefully. Then I stood up and pointed my gun at the one by my feet. 

"It's him. I'm positive that he's the shifter." I said, but Sam still kept his gun trained on the Doctor. 

"How can you be sure?" John asked. "You don't want to shoot the wrong one."

"The Doctor has two hearts." I said, and turned my attention back to the shifter. "When I felt his chest, I only had one heartbeat." The Doctor let out the breath he was holding, and stood up. Sam switched targets, but neither of us pulled the trigger. It was clear that the Doctor had other intentions. He walked up to where the shifter was, kneeling down so they could be eye to eye. 

"Now, I'm about 2000 years old, and I've saved many planets from things like you."

"I've hunted your kind before and I've lived in the pits of hell with the devil himself." Sam said, trying to strike fear in the creature like the Doctor. 

"I've seen many violent deaths and have killed men before." John said, his voice quieter than the others. 

"And I've have the experience with all three." I boasted, and the shifter tried to pull back. The Doctor pulled on the jacket the shifter and pulled it closer before he spoke again. 

"So, none of us would loose a day of sleep knowing you're dead. The only reason you're still alive is you're the closest thing I have to finding Clara. Where is she?" His voice was calm, which only scared me more. 

"But I know you. I have access to your memories. You... you have always been against violence." It shuddered. 

The Doctor grabbed the gun out of my hand, and pushed it into the center of his chest. "There's an exception to everything."

"I don't know where your friend is." He said, but this only agitated him more. "I swear! I was told that everything was going to taken care of."

"By who?" I asked, or more or less demanded. 

"I don't know. They had a message for you though."

"What's the message?" The Doctor asked. 

"Whose they?" I asked simultaneously, but he answered the Doctor's question first. 

"Four words. For your ears only." The shifter leaned forward, whispering something into the Doctor's ear. When he heard it, a look of shock covered his face. 

"Reyna, take John back to the console room." He said, his words stone cold. 

"What did he tell you?"

"Just ... do as your told." I was about to interject, when I felt John tug at my arm. 

"I not sure you want to push him right now." He said, and I looked back at the Doctor. He had an intensity in his eyes, and I knew it was better to leave now before he goes over the edge. I started to walk back to the console, worrying for the Doctor. He needs Clara more than I realized, and whatever the shifter said really pushed him. I was almost to the console area when the unmistakable sound of a gun being fired echoed through the Tardis. "Was that Sam or the Doctor?" John asked, and I looked back at him. 

"On a normal day, I'd say it was Sam that fired the bullet. But to be perfectly honest, I don't really know."


End file.
